Rage, indignation or embarrassment. Marzipan couldn't decide which one she should be feeling as she dragged herself out of the river. Making camp in an area prove to be flooded out was a stupid, beginner's mistake, almost worse than waking up to late to save all of her possession, not to mention herself, from getting washed away by the sudden deluge. The sheer unfairness of the situation also grated on her. Fate, it seemed, had once again decided that Marzipan needed to be pissed on a little more.

Or she could be enraged. Not for any singular reason but just because. Marzipan went with that option. If she took the time to reflect, she might realize that she went with option a lot.

Alternately coughing up mud, water and profanities as she went, Marzipan clawed her way up the muddy, rain-slicked embankment. Finally, she reached flat ground, heaved herself up and rolled onto her stomach. She was wet and cold, her arms and lungs burned from exertion, innumerable bruises and cuts from being dashed repeatedly against the riverbed clamored for her attention. Marzipan McClintock was, in short, not a happy camper. Actually, she was no sort of camper at all anymore. The flash flood had completely destroyed her campsite and scattered most of her possessions.

Groaning, she heaved herself to her feet. Everything ached. Marzipan decided that was a good sign, for certain values of good, it meant nothing was broken. She swore anyways. It made her feel a little bit better. Next step: she took itinerary of what she still had on her person. She still had most of her cloths, not necessarily a good thing. Her jacket was wet but the material retained heat even when soaking wet and would dry quickly. Everything else had to go. Swearing didn't make her feel any better that time.

Marzipan trudged along the riverside. She had checked the pockets of her jacket: survival knife, waterproofed wallet, a power bar and a bunch of river rocks. These meager discoveries had sparked out the foulest torrent of language yet. If anyone was around, they might have been impressed by Marzipan's extensive and colorful vocabulary. She swept her gaze back and forth, scanning the water's edge but making sure to keep an eye on the woods.

After fifteen minutes of searching, she'd found absolutely none of her positions and she was starting to acutely feel the cold on her bare skin. Just as she was about to give up and head back towards town, a shape in the woods caught her attention. Squinting through the dark and the rain, she could barely make out what seemed to be some sort of ruins in the woods. And better yet, there seemed to be someone standing by them. Potentially someone with clothes she could borrow. Or take, she thought, fingers tightening around the handle of the knife hidden in her jacket.

Approaching the ruins and the shape loitering within them, Marzipan called out, Hey! Little help over here!

Saying Anna was frustrated by her predicament was an understatement. She sat cross-legged in the stone floor in front of the tomb, frustrated by her lack of progress in getting her mother out. Nowhere, that’s how far she had gotten, absolutely nowhere. Her annoyance at the predicament turned to rage the longer she sat there. The rage kept spurring up until she couldn’t keep it down any more and let out an angry yell, getting up and punching the door to the tomb. Her very powerful fist was met with a more powerful barrier, gift from some annoying witches that have brought her into this little predicament to begin with. Anna let out another groan of frustration before heading up out of the hole to that led to the actual tomb to the ruins above.

Anna took a moment took take a couple deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. She leaned herself against the wall of the ruins. After a couple minutes of standing there, a voice called out to Anna, and it was one that she hadn’t heard before. Looking towards the voice, Anna caught sight of a young woman who looked like she had been through one hell of a battle. Anna flashed towards the woman, arriving next to her in a manner of seconds. “You look terrible, what happened,” Anna said as she assessed the damage quickly, before making a snap decision. “Nevermind, here, drink this,” she added as Anna bit her wrist so blood flowed, before offering it to the girl.

Am I losing consciousness? Marzipan wondered. I could swear that girl was standing by the ruins a second ago... If she was blacking out, the hypothermia was progressing faster than she had expected. All this blood loss is probably really helping. The thought made her smile. Almost. Marzipan's lips weren't cooperating with her sarcasm. Her teeth had stopped chattering too. I should probably be more worried... She tried to muster up the concern but an odd sense of detachment had settled over her. The patter of rain against her face was so soothing. One by one, that sensation subsumed all others until there was nothing but gentle staccato tapping against her upturned face.

Now if only someone would turn off that annoying buzzing, I could get some rest. Sounds almost like someone talking... The panic Marzipan had been suppressing crashed into her all at once. The world snapped back into focus with painful clarity. The girl, an Asian teenager maybe a few years younger than herself, soft and skinny, was saying something to her, her arm outstretched.